


The Last One Standing

by amuk



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Death, Doomed Timelines, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Introspection, Italian Mafia, Loss, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tsuna of ten years ago could never stand here today. -a countdown to the TYL! world, and Tsuna's rise as mafia bos</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last One Standing

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an old piece and also an experiment. Don’t know if this came out well, but I do like what I tried to do. This is a bit of a countdown between present and the TYL!scenario. Does that future still exist anymore?
> 
> Set/Prompt: I // 15. Tsuna—growing up; “Decade and one/ And I am here/ And I am still here standing”

1.

Tsuna shakes slightly as he stands before the crowd, before the sharp eyes and calculating minds.

 

He knows what they are looking for—weakness, of any kind, be it stuttering or shaking or averted eyes. They are waiting to see what this new boss will bring to the family and how they can exploit that.

 

(“This is it.”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“You ready?”

 

“Never. But that won’t change anything.”)

 

He doesn’t smile or sigh, his eyes coolly assessing the crowd as he pauses. Gokudera and Yamamoto stand at the back, rigid posture and worried eyes. This relaxes him, slightly, and he closes his eyes for a moment.

 

There’s no turning back now.

 

“I am the Tenth,” he begins, and wonders if there will ever be an end.

 

2.

His house is empty and large and nothing he expected. There is no mother waking him up, calling him to come down the stairs before he’s late for school. The faint scent of her cooking doesn’t waft through the halls, drowsily leading him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

 

No, Tsuna wakes up in king-sized beds, silk sheets softly blanketing him. The sun shines on his feet and a canopy covers him. A reflection stares back and the room is huge and ornate and everything but home.

 

Loneliness is a feeling he has to grow accustomed to.

 

3.

Learning hasn’t stopped, despite the fact he no longer goes to school. Reborn still tutors, finding new and unusual ways to punish Tsuna, and the piles of homework keep increasing.

 

Ryohei and Yamamoto appear, like clockwork, every Tuesday with their own problems. It’s a study group, of sorts, and Gokudera slouches in when he stops sulking over their meetings.

 

Nothing gets done, more often than not, with homework flying everywhere as small contests start and Gokudera tries to teach them. Tsuna blanches when Ryohei starts to punch the walls, and the level of noise skyrockets before the hour is up.

 

At midnight, the three guardians fall asleep, leaving Tsuna to clean up the mess and panic over his unfinished sheets. He trips over bodies and weapons and swears that he’ll never do this again.

 

He keeps the promise. Until next Tuesday.

 

4.

“Here, Tsuna,” Haru announces, Kyoko’s hands carefully balancing the plate. “We baked it especially for you.”

 

They glance at each other, grinning, before shoving it into his surprised arms. “Try it!”

 

“O-okay.” A glance down and he sees the orange icing, the brown crust, the heat seeping into his hands. Looking at them uncertainly, he picks up the spoon and takes a bite.

 

“Mmmm,” he moans as he tastes the vanilla and butterscotch. “It’s good.” Their cooking had improved these past four years, especially when they stopped taking advice from Bianchi.

 

“You like it!” Haru smiles, Kyoko’s eyes gleaming with pleasure, and he almost smiles back in return. Almost, but keeps eating instead because it really is good.

 

It’s been a while since they baked anything for him.

 

“I knew it,” Kyoko chimes in before nodding to Haru.

 

“Happy birthday!” They sing together, their arms grasping his as he gets hugged.

 

And surrounded by their smiles, he thinks it really is a _happy_ birthday.

 

5.

“There has been another attack, sir.”

 

“...tell Ryohei to deal with it, and have Chrome come here. I need her help.”

 

“Of course. As well, we have been preparing an attack.”

 

“Is there really no other way?”

 

“What?”

 

“Never mind. Inform me before you launch it.”

 

6.

White and black, two colours Tsuna never wants to see again. He clenches his right hand, nails biting his skin as they dig deeper and deeper.

 

Kyoko and Haru cry to his left, Chrome softly consoling them. The others are quiet, too quiet, and he almost wants to yell.

 

He remains stock-still as they speak, as he goes through each funeral twice. The blends of black and white ingrain in his mind, haunt his dreams and follow his steps.

 

A face turns to him, questioning and hopeful. What words are spoken, what actions are given, he can’t recall.

 

This is the thirty-first funeral this year and Tsuna still doesn’t know what to say.

 

7.

There are bruises and cuts and blooded shirts and somehow that is the norm. Somehow, they have gotten used to this violent world.

 

Somehow and yet Tsuna still panics at each new wound, at each death.

 

He is the leader.

 

This isn’t supposed to happen.

 

8.

There is a hesitant, unnerving silence.

 

It’s punctuated by a scream.

 

9.

“Do you know where they are?”

 

There’s silence on the other side of the connection, a heavy silence. He doesn’t need to hear the words.

 

He does so anyways. “No, we haven’t seen them since the last attack. As far as we can tell, they’re still alive, though your neighbourhood just narrowly avoided the previous attack.”

 

“What about Chrome?”

 

“Sorry, sir, but we haven’t heard from her in a year.”

 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. “And?”

 

“Hibari seems to still be operating out of his base, however.”

 

“That will be all.” He puts down the phone, trying not to tremble as he does so.

 

10.

“Are you sure about this?”

 

He looks at the casket, at the dark wood that makes his coffin. It’s small and cramped and his death is hard to imagine.

 

There is nothing he wants less. Tsuna nods anyways.

 

“It’s the only gambit we have left.”


End file.
